


Say You'll Remember Me

by Alina_writes



Category: Giselle (Ballet)
Genre: F/M, False Identity, Flirting, Fluff, Inspired by Music, Lies, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-09
Updated: 2016-05-09
Packaged: 2018-06-07 09:35:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6798562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alina_writes/pseuds/Alina_writes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the day before the Harvest Festival, Giselle is worried about something. Loys offers a solution.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Say You'll Remember Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nyra](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Nyra).



> For Nyra, who requested more Giselle fics.

    After one too many (literal) heartache and the subsequent fainting episode, Bertha crossed her arms and planted her feet, and declared that no, Giselle was no longer allowed to work in the vineyard alongside her dreamboat, and that if the young lady in question had any complaints, she knew where to stick them.

   The edict lasted a grand total of four days, before the poor mother caved under Loys’ charming yet overwhelming torrent of visits and Giselle’s nonstop grumbling. In the end, it was agreed that perhaps, just perhaps, Giselle could go to the vineyard and sit in one of the carts and watch the others work, as long as she didn’t raise a hand to pick a single grape or dance a single step.

    Of course, the lover birds were a young and rebellious pair, so Giselle and Loys made the best of their newfound freedom by spending most of the harvest season parking their cart in the far back of the vineyard, talking and dancing until they ran out of words and breath.

 

    “Giselle, can I tell you a secret?” With his head in Giselle’s lap, Loys looked up at the girl, who was busy carding her fingers through his dark curls. His tone was serious, a far cry from his usual light-hearted teasing.

    “What kind of secret?” Giselle felt a blush creep up her cheeks. No matter how much time they spent together, she always felt weak in the knees when those beautiful blue-grey eyes met hers.

    “You have to promise you won’t tell anyone.” His tone was still serious, and his face took on a look that was so grave that Giselle could feel her heart start beating faster in her chest, dreading what’s about to come.

    “I promise,” she said, taking her hands out of his hair.

    “Alright,” Loys closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I don’t believe in Demeter, nor do I believe in Persephone. I do not think they are the ones who bless this land with bountiful harvests.”

    “What?” Giselle exclaimed, keeping her voice down in spite of herself. “You mustn’t say something like that. The Queens of the Harvest might be enraged and ruin this harvest!”

    “Oh, don’t worry, love. I’m sure that won’t happen.” Loys said in his most reassuring voice, the one he used to promise Bertha that he would not let Giselle tire herself out.

    “How can you be sure?” Giselle asked, curiosity outweighing apprehension.

    “Because I’m looking at the beautiful Queen of the Harvest herself right this instant, and she does not look like someone who punishes non-believers with poor harvests.” There was a sly twinkling in Loys’ eyes.

    “Oh, stop it, you!” Giselle giggled as she shoved Loys out of her lap, once she had computed his words. The young man went sprawling on the ground, chuckling with victorious glee.

    “How come you always come up with things like this?” Giselle rested her elbows on her knees, propped her head in her hands, trying to decide on whether to feel annoyed or flattered.

    “I am simply describing the truth, milady,” he grinned from where he lay. “You are far too fair and kind to be a mere mortal. Surely you must be a goddess in disguise.”

    “Really? Would a goddess push you to the ground?” Giselle raised her chin at him in challenge.

    “Goddesses work in mysterious ways,” Loys held out an arm. “But I’m certain that this one in front of me won’t leave a poor soul lying in the dirt.”

    Giselle regretted giving Loys her hand the moment their hands touched. Taking her small hand in his much larger one, he pulled her down to him, cushioning her fall with his own body, making her squeal in protest.

    “I caught the Queen of the Harvest～” Loys sang, wrapping his long arms around Giselle’s waist, burying his nose in her chestnut locks.

    “You ruffian,” Giselle mumbled into Loys’ shirt, breathing his alluring smell. It was something of a mystery how he always showed up in clothes that both looked and smelled so fresh and clean. She wondered if he washed his clothes every day. “How can you be sure that I would be chosen as the Queen of the Harvest this year?”

    “You are the kindest, the fairest, and you are the best dancer in the whole village. They would be out of their mind if they don’t choose you.” Giselle couldn’t see Loys’ face but she knew he was smiling when he said this. A thought snuck into her mind, unbidden.

    “Loys?”

    “Hmmm?”

    “Will you still love me when I’m all old and wrinkly?” She tilted her head back to look at him. “When I can’t dance anymore?”

    “Of course,” he gave her _that_ look of his, the one that made her insides all warm and fuzzy. “I will love the days I have to carry you around in our house, I will love every single white hair on your head, and I will love _all_ of your wrinkles.” He planted a kiss on her forehead, the only place on her face that the faintest trace of wrinkles resided.

    “But I don’t want to be old and wrinkly,” Giselle sat up, pouting. She thought of her mother’s weathered hands and knobby knees, and made a face at the mental image.

    “Well, if you like,” Loys sat up, pressing his shoulder against hers, “I have a way to remedy this situation.” It was late in the afternoon, and the sunset cast a soft orange glow over everything it touched, including Loys’ hair. Giselle found the effect rather pleasing.

    “How?”

    “I could always remember you when you are most beautiful.”His breath was warm against her ear. “So, even when we are both old and wrinkly, you will still be beautiful in my memory.”

    “How would you remember me, then?” She leaned he head against his shoulder, feeling his pulse under her cheek.

    “Just as you are at this moment, in your blue dress, sitting under the light of the sunset, with your red lips and rosy cheeks. My Queen of the Harvest, coming down to earth.” He snaked an arm around her waist, drawing her even closer. “What about you? How will you remember me?”

    “Like you said,” Giselle smiled, “just the way you are right now.”

 

    Loys managed to escort Giselle home before the last ray of the sunset vanished from the sky. The lovers exchanged a few words of endearment under the supervision of the mother, and Loys promised his lady to pick her tomorrow for the Harvest Festival. Bertha closed the door behind her daughter, right before a squire stepped out of the shadows of the village square, draping a fine velvet cloak on the shoulders of the young man who called himself Loys.

**Author's Note:**

> I have some mixed feelings for Albrecht. It is evident that he loved Giselle, enough that he was willing to venture into a willis-infested forest to seek her. But on the other hand, he lied to her about his identity and courted her while engaged with another woman. I try not to go into that field and focus instead on what "Loys" might interact with Giselle. Also, the Giselle and Albrecht in this fic are based on Aurélie Dupont and Mathieu Ganio respectively, since they are the pair that's left an everlasting impression in my mind.
> 
> The title and Loys' declaration are obviously inspired by Wildest Dreams by Taylor Swift, a song that strongly reminds me of Giselle and Albrecht's relationship.


End file.
